


How to Lose Your Virginity (in Ten Easy Steps)

by callievalpoli



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Humor, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callievalpoli/pseuds/callievalpoli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote the first half of this after 3.03 had aired, but before 3.04.  So, spoilers for up to 3.03.  </p><p>This is pretty much pure crack, people.  Warning for POV change in last section--Derek pretty much just took over there.  Also, near the end, warning for extremely skeevy Peter with questionable intentions.</p><p>Unbeta'd.</p>
    </blockquote>





	How to Lose Your Virginity (in Ten Easy Steps)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first half of this after 3.03 had aired, but before 3.04. So, spoilers for up to 3.03. 
> 
> This is pretty much pure crack, people. Warning for POV change in last section--Derek pretty much just took over there. Also, near the end, warning for extremely skeevy Peter with questionable intentions.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

1) Come up with a (feasible) plan.

When Stiles finds out about the virgin sacrifices, he starts making lists of things he needs to do--research what kinds of beasties require virgin sacrifices, research Lydia's mysterious blackouts, research how a pack made entirely of alphas can even exist... But, before he can even get started with any of that, he has one thing he needs to take care of.

"I am not having sex with you, Stiles," Scott says, heartlessly--like the heartless, heartless wolfman he is.

"But--" Stiles says, mouth trying to form a good argument, but nothing comes out except air and a couple squeaks of manly (manly) indignation.

"No," Scott says, face all cranky and... just... mean! And then he looks off into the distance, eyes all melty and says, "Allison let me sit next to her in Geometry. And, when her lead broke, she let me lend her a pencil.

"A pencil. Wow. What was I thinking? My eminent doom in _no way_ compares with a pencil."

Scott turns his smile on Stiles, mouth wobbly with barely held-in declarations of Allison-love. "I know. Right?"

Stiles hits Scott on the back of the head. Hard. After all, he is a werewolf. It has to be hard enough to feel it.

Stiles turns from his attempts to finally knock some sense into Scott's thick skull only to find the dour one himself, the king of the brood, the angstiest of the alphas right behind him.

"Yeurghhhh,"he says eloquently, half-waving, half just trying to reestablish his own bubble. "Why? How? Why?" He takes a second to calm down a bit. "And by that I mean, why, for god's sake, are you always here? You graduated _years_ ago."

Derek gives him an extremely unimpressed look. Stiles sends a 'can you even believe this?' look to Scott. But Scott doesn't send him an 'I know, right?' look back. No. Scott's look is all 'awkward!'

Stiles turns to Derek who's still sending that unimpressed look his way, then back to Scott. "What?" Scott gives Stiles his 'c'mon man' eyebrows. Stiles turns back to Derek who's still sporting the unimpressed look of the unimpressed. Or. Wait a second...

Wait just a minute...

Is that-- "Oh my god. You-- you, like, never finished school, did you? You're, like, a total high school dropout. Derek, what were you thinking? Didn't you ever watch 'Grease?' Beauty school dropouts can't make it in the real world."

Derek shakes his head, shoulders slumping.

"Go back to school, don't be a tool, Derek."

Derek turns around and walks away without saying a word.

"C'mon, big guy. I'm just looking out for your well-being." He turns a big smile on Scott only to get a death glare in return. "What?"

*

2) Make a list of achievable (and not-so-achievable) candidates.

Eventually Stiles gets Scott's head enough in the game to help him make a list of possible candidates for the de-virginization of one Stiles Stilinski. (Stiles tries to call it something more appropriate like the thorough debauchery of studlet Stiles, but Scott denies him like the cruel fiend he is.)

The list is thus:

* Not Lydia

* Danny???

* Not Lydia

*  ~~Greenberg~~   ~~Greenberg~~ ~~Greenberg~~

* Not Lydia

* Isaac???

* Not Lydia!

Stiles thinks it's a little unfair that Scott got to be the writing person. Especially since Stiles' handwriting is obviously far, far better.

Secretly, not to ever be revealed to Scott, Allison is also on the list. She is under the 'if all else fails' category.

(Not-so-secretly, Stiles almost sort of wishes Jackson was still around. Yeah, he was a dick. A truly _massive_ dick. But he also _had_ a truly massive dick. And that _mouth_. And that _ass_. _God._ )

Stiles is looking over his list again, wondering if there is _anyone,_ anyone _at all_ that he can add to it. He looks up suddenly and Derek is _there_. Stiles' hands go up and his notebook goes flying through the air before he can stop it. "Really Derek? Really? What? Are you competing for the world stealth competition or something? Because, seriously, if you're not, you need to cut that out."

Derek just raises his eyebrow.

Stiles sighs. "Come on, Derek. Use your words. We talked about this over the summer. Words equals amazing things. Like answering basic questions. And voicing opinions. And giving instructions to, you know, the minions you call betas. You were getting so _good_ at it. Don't tell me you're backsliding already."

Derek gives him an extremely pained look and says, "Words can't fix everything." He holds up Stiles' notebook. "Words don't matter if you don't think things through." He presses Stiles' notebook to Stiles' chest, and then he's walking away.

"Remember, an important part of conversations is giving the other person a chance to respond." He waits for a second, but doesn't get a response. "We'll work on that next time. Along with your emoting. Remember, feelings, feelings some are fun, feelings, feelings amuse someone."

He flips through the notebook to find the list, but he can't find it. He shrugs it off. After all, it's breezy today. The wind probably blew it away.

*

3) Ask (beg) your first choice. (Don't be shocked/hurt/offended if they don't accept. You were probably shooting too high anyhow.)

Stiles starts on his super-secret de-virginization plan with the obvious, Danny.

On second thought, mentioning the name of his plan may not have been the best idea.

After Danny is done laughing, he opens his mouth long enough to utter one syllable. Unfortunately, that syllable is not 'yes.'

"No," Danny says. He looks like he's only a few seconds away from starting with the laughter again.

"But--" Stiles says.

"I don't do virgins. No offense." Danny smiles and straightens Stiles' shirt collar. "After, though...? Feel free to call me. I like 'em big."

"Wait, what? If you like big dudes, why don't you go after Solas? He's, like, a giant. Also, I heard he's flexible. Although, I'm not sure if that means flexible sexually or just... flexible. Either way, sounds like he'd be right up your alley."

Danny's smile turns a little forced. "Not. That. Way."

"Okay..." Stiles says. He waits for a second for an explanation, and doesn't get one. "Uh, what way then?"

Danny arches his eyebrow. "You know what way." And then there are hands. Hands in new places. "Like I said, call me. After." And then Danny's walking away.

Stiles takes a second to adjust--things--and then he says, "Okay, yeah, thanks Danny. Thanks a lot." He turns around and mutters under his breath, " _Very_ helpful Danny. Really. You are the best."

"You need better friends," Derek says. And of course Derek's there, just to make this as painful as absolutely possible.

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly one to talk. Who do you have? Isaac and Scott barely acknowledge you. Boyd and your sister are loony tunes. And then there's crazy uncle Peter."

"I have you," Derek says, eyebrows arched almost to his hairline.

Stiles blinks. He blinks again. "Oh." He blinks again. He feels a little like a computer that's been rebooted--not fully running yet. Derek thinks Stiles is his friend. Derek thinks _Stiles_ is his friend. "Oh my god. You--you--"

Derek's eyebrows arch higher, which, how is that even possible?

"You're totally a secret softy." Stiles cannot even control his smile. He knows it's one of those super awkward ones. The ones he always ends up with on his school pictures. He holds out his arms, waves his fingers a little. "C'mon big guy. Come over here and lay one on me."

Derek just stands there, perfectly stock still. His mouth is a little open, and he has this look on his face that Stiles can't quite figure out.

But there's no time for that now. For now is-- "Hug time!"

Derek's back sort of slumps and his face goes all sour. Stiles figures hugs are completely off the table--so when a pair of arms are tentatively embracing him, he doesn't quite know what to do. If he had to describe it in one word it would be... awkward. Derek pats his back once and then he backs off fast. "You have the better deal, you know."

"Huzzah-wha?" Stiles says.

Derek smiles his most predatory smile "You have _me_ for a friend."

Derek walks away, like the awful, awful friend he is.

"Hey! I'm a good friend. A great friend. The _best_ friend. Just ask Scott." Stiles grunts at Derek's back. "Fine. You're right. You're a great friend. I see so much of you. Especially your _back side._ "

*

4) If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. (And again. And again.)

"So Isaac," Stiles says, "want to take a ride on the Stiles Express?" He makes a super-sexy face. He hopes.

Isaac's eyes widen and he backs away. "Uh... no."

Stiles feels his face fall.

There's a noise in the distance that sounds a little like a growling dog.

Isaac's eyes flash gold, and then he's stumbling all over himself, saying, "Not because I'm not interested. I'm totally interested. _Majorly_ interested. I would ride that train _so hard._ " There's more growling and Isaac flinches. "That is, I _would_. But I can't. Because--" he pauses, and looks at the ceiling. "Because, I'm interested in someone else. I'm interested in Cora." There's more growling and when Stiles looks up he sees sweat break out on Isaac's forehead. "Allison. I mean Allison. I'm totally into Allison right now."

Stiles squinches his face up. "Okay, so you're into Allison. And possibly Cora. But, does that really mean that you can't have sex with me?"

"Yes. It does."

"Why?" Stiles says. "Because, from where I stand, it really doesn't."

Isaac looks up at the ceiling. "What do you want me to say here? Nothing? Okay, then." He turns to Stiles, big smile on his face. "So, the reason I can't pop your cherry is that someone else is in to you. Really. Completely gone."

Stiles stares at Isaac, mouth open. "Wait, really? I mean, really? Not that it's hard to believe. At all. I mean, after all, I am a hot tamale of hotness. And sexiness. Speaking of sexiness, who exactly is it that thinks I'm Sexy McSexerton?"

There's a loud series of growls and howls. Isaac wolfs out for a second. "I can't tell you," he says, around a mouth full of fangs. "It's--a secret."

"This is so cool. Seriously. A secret admirer. How awesome is that?"

"Yeah, right. Awesome. Have fun with that." He snorts. There is another low growl. Isaac winces.

"Dude, what's up with you today? New dog in the neighborhood?"

"Not new," Isaac says. "Old. But, you know how it is. A bitch goes into heat and--" Isaac is suddenly rolling on the floor, clutching at his ears.

Stiles thinks about calling for help, but then he thinks about the whole attempt to kidnap Lydia. This seems about like just desserts to him.

*

5) And again...

"So, Allison," Stiles says, bracing himself. He's got to be strong. And assertive. And not show his fear.

Oh, who the hell is he kidding, she can probably spot his fear a mile away. Fear-spotting is probably something they train baby hunters in from the cradle.

"Hey, Stiles," Allison says, smiling sweetly. Like she can't tell anything is going on. At all.

Only, that's probably the training again, kicking in. Hunters are probably trained in, like, emoting. Always seem normal, never act like you suspect anything. That way you can better drag everything out of your prey.

Stiles gulps. He can do this. He can do this. He can totally do this. "I was wondering..." He _so_ can't do this.

"Yes?" Allison says with an adorable smile. She is just the nicest person ever. Really. Except, he's not sure how much of that is really nice and how much is her secretly being all 'luring him into a false state of comfort'-iness.

"If..." He's got nothing. "I was wondering, if...." He's got absolutely nothing. He looks down at his notebook and inspiration strikes. "If I could borrow a pencil!"

"Sure," Allison says, producing a simple yellow pencil from her backpack like magic. "It's funny, I thought you were going to ask for something else."

Stiles feels a sudden sense of foreboding. "Oh, really?" he says.

"Yeah. I kind of thought you were going to ask me to have sex with you." At the look on his face, she bursts into gales of laughter. "Sorry, Scott just mentioned..."

"Right," Stiles says with as much dignity as he can muster. "Laugh now little girl, but just think how sorry you'll be when I'm eaten up by the big bad virgin-killing monster."

Allison's smile turns a little concerned. "I'm sure you'll be fine," she says, patting his shoulder. "You're a real catch. It shouldn't be hard at all to find somebody to," she tilts her eyebrow up suggestively, "you know."

"Yeah," Stiles says, looking down at his hands. "I'm a real catch. Anyone would want me. I mean, look at me, Hotty McGee Stilinski." When he looks back up, Derek's there, standing awkwardly next to Allison. "Great. Our hapless leader returns. What say you strong leader? Good news from the front?"

Derek gives him furrowed-brow-face (TM) and turns to Allison. "I think you lost this on our property," he says, holding out an arrow.

Allison smiles in the creepy-mean way she sometimes does. "Thanks for returning what's mine. I would return what's yours, but wait, oh yeah, one of them is dead, one of them ran away again, and one of them is foolish enough to actually be with you already."

Derek edges closer to Allison, and incidentally, in front of Stiles. Which, no way is he getting left out of this action. He darts to the side.

"Stay away from what's mine," Derek says, low growl in his voice.

Allison puts her hands up in mock surrender and says, "Do you see me anywhere near Isaac?"

Derek's eyes dart from her to Stiles and back again. "I'm not talking about Isaac."

She smiles, only it's more of a smirk than anything. "Really? Really, Derek?" And she's laughing again only this time it's more mocking. "Stiles, like I said, I really don't think you'll have to worry about your little problem." And then she's walking away.

Stiles makes a hurt noise, because really? Really? "Dude, you're gonna make a comment like that and not back it up with some options? Seriously, Allison. I have officially recinded your friendship card. You and I, amigos no longer. You see this?" He holds up his crossed fingers. "No more!" He tries to untwist them, but they're totally stuck. And then he's trying to pry them apart, only looking at them he somehow loses his balance and then he's suddenly falling...

Into Derek.

"Dude, you're still here?" Stiles says.

Derek rolls his eyes and walks away.

Without his support, Stiles falls onto the floor.

"A little help here?"

*

6) And _again_...

Stiles walks up to Lydia. He knows he shouldn't do this. He _knows,_ mkay? And it's not just because of Scott's venn diagram (although he was duly impressed at Scott knowing what a venn diagram was... of course, Scott did use squares instead of circles, but it's a work in progress, a constantly improving work in progress). Stiles knows he shouldn't go to Lydia because, despite not really liking her _that way_ anymore after she turned him down like a stone cold bitch in favor of _Jackson, again,_ he does still have _feelings_. And sure, they're now just as often the morose "I will never love someone like that again" feelings and the angry "thank god this never happened because sometimes I really hate you" feelings as the "part of me still remembers why I loved you" feelings. But all of these feelings do not turn Stiles away from his mission to ask Lydia what he's about to ask her.

He opens his mouth.

"No," Lydia says, not even looking up from her book.

"But--" Stiles says, and then he thinks about it and wonders what exactly she's saying no to. "What exactly are you saying no to?"

Lydia arches her eyebrow. "You. I'm saying no to you, Stiles."

"What does that...?" Stiles says gesturing to try and show emphasis. "Seriously, what does that even mean?"

"Well you're obviously coming over to me to ask me to have sex with you." Lydia twirls her pen in her hand. It's pink. And sparkly. Stiles is a little afraid she's planning to jab him with it.

"No, of course not. Of course I'm not doing that. Only, yes, I kind of am. But, only in the best sense of the word. The _purest_ sense of the word. I'm doing it for reasons. For real reasons. Reasons that I can't get into right now, but suffice it to say that there are reasons."

"Oh, you mean like you being afraid for your life because of all the virgin sacrifices going on?" Lydia says with a twist of her mouth. "You're right, Stiles. That is my very definition of purity. Oh wait. Actually it's my very definition of you being a chickenshit."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Stiles says, fiddling with his hoodie strings. But wait. Wait just a second! "How how HOW did you know about the virgin sacrifices?"

"I pay attention. Duh," Lydia says.

"So, wait. If you _know_ about the virgin sacrifices, that means..." Stiles gives her his most hopeful eyes.

"I'm not having sex with you," Lydia says. She pats him on the cheek. "I don't think we'd work out. We're not exactly a love connection waiting to happen. And besides, don't you have someone already howling at your door to take care of that situation for you?"

Stiles scrunches up his face. "Allison said something about that too. And so did Isaac. But I really can't think of who, other than maybe Greenberg. And I really don't want my first time to be with Greenberg. I mean, thanks, but no thanks."

"Think you're _barking_ up the wrong tree, there," Lydia says, flipping her hair. "I was thinking about someone who was _mooning_ over you."

Stiles stares at her for a second. "Can you have my babies? I mean, I get the not wanting to date me thing, but seriously, you are..." he flails a little. Mooning. How cool is that?

Lydia sighs at the ceiling. "Maybe, some day, very far in the future, after you've actually manned up and dealt with the--" she waves her hand--"puppy love situation."

"Really?" Stiles says, feeling his heart melt a little bit. Lydia babies. Smart, sassy and stylish, with Stiles' own special brand of humor to keep it fresh.

"Sure," Lydia says. She rolls her eyes. "With how long it's taking you to figure it out, I'll be too old to bear children when you come to me anyhow."

Stiles walks away, images of miniature female Stileses and male Lydias dancing in his head. When he bumps into Derek he can't suppress the grin. "Hey big guy, why so grumpy?"

Only Derek isn't really grumpy. He's sort of--well he looks like he might be something along the lines of--

"Are you happy?" Stiles asks, shocked.

"No," Derek says, forcing a scowl on his face. Only the smile keeps trying to break through.

"You are. You totally are. You totally are secretly happy as a clam in chowder. Or something. That doesn't involve being eaten. You get my point."

Derek turns his sort of happy look on Stiles and says, "So, is there something you wanted to ask me?"

"Not that I can think of," Stiles says, smiling back. Only, then Derek's smile goes the way of all of Derek's smiles (at least, Stiles can assume) and disappears.

"Right," Derek says, shifting his shoulders. "Of course." He walks away.

"Dude, you're taking away my happy place."

*

7) And _AGAIN..._

"So, Greenberg," Stiles says.

Greenberg looks up at Stiles.

Stiles imagines doing-- _things_ with Greenberg. Naked things. Sweaty things. Inappropriate things.

He shudders.

"Nevermind," Stiles says. "I think I'll just ask one of those new twins. Which one is gay again?"

From the distance, Stiles thinks he hears, "Seriously Stiles?" but he figures he's just imagining things again, like he did when he was in the second grade and he thought his best friend was this big black dog that only came to his house when he was sleeping. Silly imagination.

*

8) No matter what, don't settle for second best (or, you know, worst)

Stiles walks up to the entrance to Derek's building. He knows Boyd's not exactly the best option right now, but he figures Boyd'll probably do a solid for his best-bud-ever Stiles. He's just about to buzz his way in to see if little Boydy wants to play, when he turns to his left and Peter is suddenly there.

"Fuck!" he shouts, making the sign of the cross and then trying to think of other things to warn, like, bad mojo and shit away. He knew he should've begged extra mountain ash off Deaton.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Peter walks closer to Stiles.

Stiles backs away. "Peter. How's it hanging? How's that undead thing treating you?"

"Stiles," Peter says, walking forward, "I _think_ you seem to be a little confused by priorities right now. You're focusing on me. You should be focusing on yourself."

"Oookay," Stiles says, walking back. "I'm just gonna, you know." He points behind himself and then he turns around and attempts to flee.

Peter's hand lands on his shoulder and holds firm. "Stiles, Stiles, Stiles. What's the rush? Don't you want someone to help you deal with that little problem of yours?"

Stiles feels his heart stutter. "Yes. I do actually. Which is why I'm leaving. You know, to go and... uh... meet that someone."

Suddenly Peter is right behind him. "Stiles," he says, breath tickling the back of Stiles' neck, "I can hear your heartbeat. I can tell you're lying." He runs a hand over Stiles' collar and _jerks_ and suddenly Stiles is turned around, back against the wall and facing Peter and his total creepiness.

He shudders. Again.

Peter smiles at him, mouth at defcon one levels of sinister. "You see Stiles, I have the answer to your little... problem. It's simple really. Elementary. All you have to do is say yes."

"No," Stiles says. "No, no, no, no, and, let me say it again for repeating, no!"

Peter shrugs. "Oh well. If you're not willing..." He steps backwards. Stiles feels himself relax against the wall. And then, suddenly, Peter is all up in his business again. "I actually don't have a problem with that."

A hand is on his face, and Peter's face is approaching his _way_ too fast, and Stiles is just pulling in breath to scream like a little girl (or more accurately, Lydia), when suddenly Peter is just--gone. For a second Stiles thinks that he might actually be magic--that when he wished him away, well that was all it took. And then he hears a moan coming from the ground.

He looks down and sees Peter lying prone with a gaping hole in his chest, and Derek positively rabid on top of him.

"Nice puppy," Stiles says, backing along the wall. "Nice, good puppy. Good, good dog. Who's the good dog?"

Derek gives him an unimpressed look, (which, how can he even do that without any eyebrows?) and then he's turning to Peter and doing the creepy Alpha-growl thing. "STAY!"

Peter puts his hands up in innocence. "Do you see me moving? Although, next time you want to assert your dominance, do you think there's any chance you can do it in a place where I'm not _quite_ so likely to be run over by every passing vehicle?"

Derek just looks at him for a second, and then he's throwing Peter against the wall. "Better?" he says, all sarcastic asshole.

"Much," Peter groans.

Stiles has been slowly backing away through all this, creeping along the building slowly but surely. When Derek turns back to him and says, "Stiles!" he freezes in place, just like a possum. Of course, just like a possum, even though he's frozen, Derek can still fricking see him. "We need to talk," Derek says.

Stiles wants to stay still, just exactly where he is for the rest of his life. He wants to turn to stone and just not _deal with_ whatever is coming. He wants to run away, run back home to his dad or to Scott or to freaking Allison, because that woman could protect him better than maybe anyone. He wants to confront Derek. He wants to yell at him--tell him that he's been making the kind of sense that is _none_ lately.

Of course, Stiles doesn't do any of those things. Instead, he turns to Derek and says, "What?" voice defeated.

"I--" Derek says, and then he stops, looking afraid, or shy, or embarrassed (it's hard to tell under all that wolfitude). And then Derek's thrusting a piece of paper at Stiles.

Stiles looks at Derek, hard, and then he grabs the piece of paper. He doesn't look at the piece of paper, though. He looks at Derek, who's slowly turning back into his more human aspect.

"What is this Derek? Seriously, what?" Stiles says.

"Just, will you read it?" Derek says.

Stiles looks at the piece of paper in his hand. On it is written:

* ~~Not Lydia~~ **no**

* ~~Danny???~~ **no**

* ~~Not Lydia~~ **no**

* ~~Greenberg Greenberg Greenberg~~   **who? doesn't matter. no**

* ~~Not Lydia~~ **no**

* ~~Isaac???~~ **no**

* Not Lydia! **no**

**derek?**

Stiles slowly (slowly) looks up from the page. And slowly (slowly) looks up at Derek. "Oh," he says.

*

9) Sometimes you realize the right one (Mr. Right, not to be confused with Mr. Big) has been right in front of you the whole time (or to the side, or behind, or above....)

Stiles never really thought about Derek as an option because, as far as Stiles knew, Derek wasn't one (an option, that is). Actually, he had initially thought of Derek, but ruled it out as too preposterous to even make the list. After all, Derek looked like... and Stiles history of sex with other people included making it to first base with someone who was then kidnapped for a ritual murder. So, there's that...

And there's the fact that Stiles' and Derek's relationship has always been fraught with... well he wouldn't say _unpleasantness_. After all, that's not quite strong enough a word. More like _brutality_. _Trauma_. _Cruelty_. Of course, Stiles will be the first to admit that situation is a two way street deal. Stiles can't humor Derek to save his soul and has made more than just a few (dozen) jokes that only someone as nice as Scott would term cruel (anyone else would add 'and unusual punishment' to the end). So there's that...

And then, of course, there's the fact that Stiles has always sorta thought that Derek was, like sexless or something. For a super-hot creature of the night that's always going around shirtless, Derek _never_ seems to get any game. (Of course, looking back, this may be one of those pot/kettle scenarios. Like, Stiles himself never has game, because, when he's around someone he's sexually interested in, he's totally awkward. Derek... kind of the same, actually.)

Derek clears his throat. And scratches behind his ear. And sort of accidentally smacks into the wall. And suddenly Stiles sees it, like he's never seen it before. Derek--

Wants to have sex with Stiles. He totally, totally wants to have sex with Stiles.

And, although a little teensy part of Stiles had been hoping for something more... he's pretty okay with settling. Heck, okay? He's on board. 100%. Like, he doesn't know exactly what he's boarding, but whatever it is? He's one hundred billion percent aboard it. Oh yeah.

Stiles smiles super sexily (or maybe kinda awkwardly) and sort of gestures (flails) Derek over. "I have read your proposal, and I accept."

Derek's face looks a little like a rain-cloud where the sun has suddenly broken through (ha, Derek's face looks like a RAINBOW). It lightens up, first a slow curve of the mouth, then a twist of the lips, and then the eyes. Stiles has to look away for a second in self-preservation.

Stiles opens his eyes wide with excitement (because, c'mon, exciting), and says to Derek "Let's get with the sexing!"

Derek's face freezes. "Right," he says.

Stiles laughs for joy, because Stiles, Stiles no longer needs fear death by sacrifice. For he has Derek, breaker of innocence and sullier of... the unsullied.

From the pavement, Stiles hears a weak laugh joining his own. And, although he generally doesn't approve of Peter (or of Peter's happiness) on principle, in this occasion he is willing to be magnanimous. The two of them laugh together for a glorious moment in time.

And then Derek steps on Peter, and it's just Stiles laughing. But, Peter's moaning, which works for him.

*

10) Remember, in every relationship, communication is key (and no, naughty parts can't actually communicate with each other)

It's not that Derek thinks of this as his first time. Not really.

He talked about it with a counselor--one of those freebie ones at the student center--when Laura started getting too worried. He knows that sex is all different sorts of things. He knows that sex with Kate really was sex with Kate, even if his penis was never in her vagina.

But it still feels like his first time.

He doesn't tell Stiles that.

"More," he says, hands clenched into the comforter.

"More, right. I can do more," Stiles says. He starts pushing his finger farther into Derek. And then he stops. "It's just--"

Derek growls.

Stiles slaps him on the side. "Hush, you. It's just--don't you think we should, like, talk about this more first. I mean, I know the whole me losing my virginity thing is important to me, but it's not exactly important to you. And, like, I get that you're really into the whole self-sacrifice right now, but I'm not. Into you, sacrificing yourself. I'm kind of _really_ not into that."

Derek sighs. He hangs his head, back clenching up tight. He knew he shouldn't have done this. He _knew_ this was a bad idea. Because, no matter what he's going to have to say something. He's either going to have to say something about his own lack of sexual experience, or else--

"I've never had sex," Derek mumbles into his arm.

Derek can almost feel Stiles make a screeching noise in his head. "Wait a second. Back up. You've never what? 'Cause I could swear you just said you've never _had sex_ which, really? Don't you think that might be something that's important for me to know? Seeing as I'm the one who's going to be deflowering you here?"

"It doesn't matter," Derek tells the comforter.

"Okay, this is just ridiculous. I can't be having this conversation with your back. Move. Seriously, move." And Stiles is tugging on his hip, pulling and pulling and pulling him, just like how he's always pushing and pushing and pushing Derek in life. And Derek just--he can't. He can't do this. He can't be a part of this conversation.

So, when he's finally turned around, he very deliberately looks up at the ceiling, down at the carpet, pretty much everywhere but at Stiles himself. "It doesn't _matter_ ," Derek tries again, figuring it's as good an argument as any.

"Uh huh," Stiles says, and he is one sneaky little shit. Before Derek can even do anything, Stiles is jerking at Derek's hair, hard enough to hurt. It's enough to force him to turn and look at Stiles. "If it doesn't matter, why'd you wait so long? Don't tell me you didn't have hot chicks knocking down your door looking for sexy-time fun."

Derek tries to look away, he really does. But he's looking right at Stiles when he says, "It didn't--it wasn't right."

Stiles stares at him a second, mouth open and just blinking. "And, uh, this is? Right?" He gestures wildly with his hands, at the spilled lubricant and the ridiculous XXL condom and the bedside lamp which is currently residing on the floor.

Derek closes his eyes. He counts his heartbeats, and when that doesn't work, he counts Stiles' heartbeats. "Yes."

"Yes, he says. Yes. What does that mean, 'yes'?" Stiles says, still gesturing wildly.

Derek just looks at him.

"Oh," Stiles says, look of dawning realization on his face. "Oh. Yes. Like, yes. As in--you want this, don't you?"

"You," Derek says, looking away.

"Me, what? Me want this too? Well yeah." Stiles looks at him, just looks and looks and looks. It's like a knife cutting through him, and he must find something, because he says, "No. No, you--you want me?"

Derek's eyes flash red against his will.

"You do. You... you want me. You want me! Oh my god, you _want_ me." And like that, Stiles is pouncing on him, covering him with warmth and longing and, just... rightness.

"You, Mr. Derek Hale are one sneaky wolf." Stiles licks at Derek's throat. "You've been keeping this to yourself the whole time. Never letting on that you secretly, wait, I have to say it. You like-like me, don't you? You totally have a secret like-like of me, one Stiles Stilinski."

Derek feels his face flush crimson.

Stiles smirks like the utter shit he is. Derek's heart melts a little. "You do. You totally do. You like-like me." And then he's flushing red himself, and looking away. "Just so you know--just so you're aware--I, ah, like-like you too." He buries his face in Derek's armpit.

Derek didn't think there would be a lot of armpit involved in having sex with Stiles, but much like everything with Stiles, his expectations never meet reality. "Stiles, you want to get a move on here? Before we're kidnapped by the virgin-killers?"

"Virgin _sacrificers,_ " Stiles says, looking up from Derek's armpit. "Virgin _sacrificers_."

"Like I said, killers," Derek says, tugging Stiles until they're both on their sides.

"Sacrificers and killers are not the same thing. At all," Stiles says, eyes narrowing.

"I don't know," Derek says, feeling a smile start that he tries his best to bite back. "Either way you end up with a dead body. Sounds the same to me." The smile gets away from him a little bit at the end.

"Ugh!" Stiles says. "You're doing this to annoy me. You're totally just doing this to annoy me." A sudden look of realization comes over him. "Wait. Wait a second. Wait just a cotton-picking minute. Is this something you do? Have you been doing this all along?"

Derek lets his smile speak for him.

"Oh my god," Stiles groans, burying his face in his hands. "I cannot believe I have serious feeling for someone who intentionally uses erroneous arguments just to play the devil's advocate.

"What can I say," Derek says, tugging him in. "I love getting a rise out of you."

11) Remember the main objective. It's easy to get sidetracked, but you're in it to win it. (And win it, and win it. You're in it to score, people. Hit a homerun. Cross all the bases.) **stiles, if you don't stop using baseball references you aren't going to be winning anything for a long, long time.** (you're in it to get one in the net--there, better?) **we'll work on it**


End file.
